


Stiles discovers his heritage

by climbingup



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2020-12-17 02:57:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21047159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/climbingup/pseuds/climbingup
Summary: Stiles is kicked out of the pack, so he goes to NYC to get away from the supernatural shit show that has been going on with his lifeIt doesn't go to plan





	1. Revelations

Stiles sat on the sofa in his new apartment in New York, stewing over the last conversation he had had with Scott.

_“What do you mean we can’t be friends anymore?”_

_“Look” Scott stared into his eyes with determination, “I’ve tried being friends with you and keeping you out of pack business, but it just doesn’t work.”_

_“And why would I need to be kept out of pack business?” Demanded Stiles, having noticed in the past few weeks that the pack had been purposefully leaving him out of meetings when Liam had slipped up and asked him why he hadn’t been to the last few._

_“Because.” Scott stated._

_“Because what?”_

_Scott looked like he was struggling to say what he was thinking, then it exploded out of him. “Because you’re human!”_

_“W-what?” Stiles asked, taking a step back, not believing what his best friend was saying. He didn’t have any problem with Mason joining in._

_“You’re weak,” Scott continued, looking like he hadn’t noticed Stiles’ reaction. “You could get hurt and I can’t think of any other way to protect you.”_

_Stiles scoffed. “Since when have I asked for your protection?” He demanded, not knowing when Scott had gotten the idea into his head that he needed to be protected._

_“But you do” Scott said, looking desperate. “You’re human, and if you get hurt you can’t heal as quickly as we can.”_

_Stiles blinked, blindsided by the realisation that Scott had been thinking this for a while._

_“First, I tried to get you to stay behind, then I ordered you to stay behind. But you didn’t listen! So, I told the pack to stop letting you go to meetings and including you in pack stuff.”_

_Scott looking like he was about to go on, but Stiles spoke up. “So, you thought that instead of just telling me that you were worried you should just go behind my back and get my friends to exclude me?” He felt anger starting to stir, outraged that Scott, the person he had thought of as a brother, had deliberately sought to isolate him from his friend, from the family he had forged just because he was human._

_“You wouldn’t listen!” Scott yelled again. _

_“So, what?” Stiles asked. “Your solution is to take away my friends completely? To isolate me? To abandon me and make the others do the same?”_

_Scott shook his head. “No. I’m protecting you.”_

_“So that’s just it?” Stiles asked. “We’re not friends anymore?”_

_Scott nodded, a drawn look on his face._

_“And you think the others will agree with you?”_

_Scott nodded again, looking sure of himself. “They’ll have to.”_

_Stiles frowned at that. Have to?_

_“I’m the alpha, and my decision is final.”_

Stiles shook his head to bring himself back to the present. Two weeks. He had only lasted two weeks in Beacon Hills after being kicked out of the pack. He hadn’t known it then, but he had had pack bonds, and the feeling as they broke a few days later as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling was excruciating.

He had screamed so loud that his dad had come in and demanded to know what was going on, refusing to leave until he had answers. He had told his father, and then had to talk the man down from going after Scott and potentially shooting him for having the audacity to cause pain to his son.

Once Stiles had explained everything and Scott’s reasoning the older man had looked pained for his son and had discreetly started making calls to see if he could graduate early and he had called his wife’s lawyer to ask if the property in New York was still available or if it had been sold as he had requested. The lawyer informed him that he had no say in the property that his wife had left his son and that he should stop asking for it to be sold, and he smiled as he began to explain the situation to the lawyer.

The lawyer, an old friend of Claudia’s who had taken her on as a favour after he had semi-retired was understandably infuriated that such a thing could have occurred to the child of one of the closest friends he had had and he had said that the apartment would be ready any time Stiles wished to move in there.

After a week and a half of being ignored at school by the people who he had thought were his friends, his family, his pack, he had broken down and told his dad that he wanted to move somewhere else. He had expected to be moved to a different school in the area but the solution his dad came up with was so much better.

He stopped going to classes and finished all of the coursework he needed to do, as well as the tests to finish high school. The pack hadn’t known what was going on and he had spotted them trying to listen in from down the hallway, and it had made his day when he realised that his father had asked that they pass him the information on paper when he was in the hallway to avoid people realising that he was leaving.

On his final day of school Lydia had tried to corner him and demand an explanation as to why he was skipping classes, and the look on her face when he told her it was none of her business and to butt out still made him smile.

He had left that night for his new home, having already packed and ordered a new sim card with a different number so he could have a clean break and decide what he wanted to do with his life.

He had to admit to himself that he was slightly miffed when his father had explained to him that his mother had been much more well off than he had been led to believe and that she had left him a sizable inheritance that he would have access to when he turned 21. When he had asked his father why he had never been told about it his father was quite bashful in explaining the argument that he had had with the lawyer his mother had hired and the outrage he had felt when it was explained to him that his eight year old son had a separate account he had never heard of that was to be used as a living expenses account until he could fully inherit.

Stiles almost laughed at his reaction the previous week when he had gone to the bank in London the day after arriving and requested access to his account. His name had caused a chain reaction in the bank which had resulted in his mother’s old lawyer, Ragnor, being called and eventually a DNA test to prove his identity, which he had thought was ridiculous until he saw the amount of money in the account. $2 million.

He had been flabbergasted and would have thought it was a mistake if not for Ragnor’s insistence that it wasn’t.

Ragnor had taken it upon himself to explain to Stiles that his mother had been a very successful lawyer and that one of their other friends, who was not currently practicing law, was the executor of her estate and had been the one to decide the amount that was kept in the account.

Once they had left the bank Ragnor had told him that he would arrange a meeting with the executor of the estate so that Stiles would know what had been left to him and they could discuss how and when things would be released. That meeting was scheduled for tomorrow and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t anxious to meet the person that his mother had trusted as much as or more than his father.

He looked at his phone and cursed, realising that it was 6pm and he still hadn’t gone to go and get more food. He walked over to his fridge and admitted that he needed to go, not knowing what he could make out of some tomato paste, milk and a pepper.

He shifted as he went down the elevator to the ground floor, trying to remember the shop he went to the last time, turning right as he left the building and sighing in relief as he saw the small bodega two blocks down was still open.

After he had finished shopping he walked home, but paused outside the opening of an alley when he heard scuffling and a muffled shout. He waited to see if he could hear it again before he dropped his shopping and rushed to help the person who lying on the floor, their face filled with fear.

He barged the person standing above then, and while they were off balance knocked them over using a kick that Chris Argent had taught him during the last few months whilst he had been teaching him martial arts.

The person turned around and was about to launch at him when two men, one with raven hair and the other with blond stepped out of the darkness and started attacking the person with glowing knives. The fought in tandem, moving as if they had been fighting together their entire lives, exploiting any weakness their enemies had and covering their own. It was over in less than a minute, the person dropping to the ground dead.

Once they had confirmed their kill they turned to him in unison and as he glanced over them he noticed them share a confused glance and the blond glance down at one of his tattoos as if checking something.

“Hey, kid.” The raven haired one called out, and as he stepped closer Stiles got a better look at his face. He had a chiselled jaw line with brown eyes, which were staring intensely at him. “What are you?”

What? Stiles blinked. What was he? Oh, he thinks I’m supernatural Stiles realised, and when he looked at the man on the floor he realised that there were claws that were receding. Claws that looked very familiar.

“Oh hell no.” He said shaking his head and backing away. The blond haired one tried to approach him with his hands up as if to belay his concern but Stiles just backed away. “No. No I am done with this shit.”

The blond and raven haired guys shared a look. “Done with what?” The raven haired one asked.

“I am not dealing with this shit.” He repeated. “I am so frigging done with werewolves.”

The blond one blinked and then demanded. “You know what that is?”

Stiles just looked at him deadpanned. “It’s. A. Werewolf.” He said slowly, annunciating every work as if they were five years old. “And I am done with werewolves.”

He turned to walk down the alley back to his food only to find the woman who had been on the floor standing in his way, now holding a knife similar to the one the two men had used. Stiles groaned. Of course, only he could interrupt a honey trap used to kill a werewolf.

“How do you know about werewolves?” The woman demanded.

“A similar way to you I’d assume.” Stiles snarked. “Now if you don’t mind,” he motioned to the entrance to the alleyway, “I’m trying to keep out of supernatural business. I’ve had enough to last a lifetime.”

“If you know about werewolves,” the blond said from behind him, moving to stand to his right, “then you know about us.”

“Yeah. No. No clue dude.” Stiles answered. “I’m assuming you’re hunters, and I’ve got to tell you I’m done with your type as well.”

When the two in front of him shared a look he rolled his eyes. “Just because I’m trying to stay out of it doesn’t mean I think that all werewolves should die for existing.”

“What?” The woman asked, looking offended.

Stiles sighted and ran a hand down his face, feeling exhausted. “Look, maybe you don’t work the same as the Argents do, but every werewolf hunter I’ve met tries to kill all of them just because they exist. Well,” he contemplated, “first they torture them to get any information out of them, then they kill them and then they leave the body cut in half for the rest of the pack to find.”

“What?” The blond haired one chocked out. “Who is doing that?”

Stiles blinked at him. “Every hunter I’ve ever met.”

The blond looked slightly sick at that, frowning like he was trying to wrap his head around it.

“Wait, did you say Argents?” The raven haired boy said, looking as if he was trying to remember where he had heard the name before.

“You know,” Stiles waved his hands, “one of the most influential families of hunters in the world…”

The three just blinked at him, seeming to not know about them. Huh, that was new.

“Well, I’m just gonna…” He motioned towards the alley opening and walked towards it, shaking his head.

He heard a small scuffle behind him and chanced a glance back, seeing the raven haired one with his hand on the blond one’s chest, holding him back from going after Stiles.

He turned around and rolled his eyes, done with all of the supernatural bullshit.


	2. The meeting

Stiles sat at his table, nervously palming his mug from one hand to the other as he watched the clock count down the final seconds until he was going to leave to finally speak to the executor of his mom’s estate. He waited while the seconds ticked past, his chest tight with anxiety, worried that his mother’s friend wouldn’t want to talk to him about her.

He still missed her. He always would.

Stiles had learned not to ask his father questions about his mother very quickly after her death, the initial reaction when he was younger had been drunken yelling and even when he had become sober there was still a chilling look in his eyes that warned Stiles against asking the question again.

He had given up years ago, not wanting to reopen the wound that his dad was slowly healing from, even though he longed for the slightest mention of her or the sight of her in the pictures that had been taken down.

He blinked, coming back to his senses as he looked at the clock and realised that he could leave. He stood jerkily, grabbing his phone, keys and wallet from in front of him and quickly pulling his jacket on.

His mind was buzzing as he made it to the address the lawyer Ragnor had given him at the bank, making the journey to Brooklyn.

When he reached the place he had to double check the address, confused that someone apart from Derek would choose to live in old industrial building that had clearly seen better days. He blinked, pushing away the tears that were threatening to fall, knowing that Derek had had to leave for himself. He had to leave so that he could become who he was without having to look over his shoulder every day in the hell mouth that was Beacon Hills.

He just wished the man would call some times. Stiles knew they hadn’t been the best of friends but when Scott had kicked him out of the pack and turned everyone against him when he still tried to talk to them he had found himself driving towards the loft automatically. He realised now that Scott wasn’t everything he thought his friend to be, and that was proven by the fact that he always went to Derek to force him to see reason, knowing from the past that there was no way he could get through Scott’s thick skull when he believed that he was in the right and that his plan was fool proof.

The squeaking of the step underneath him brought him back to reality as he trudged up the to the penthouse level of the building. He sighed and shook his head, having broken his promise to himself, again, to not think about that place or the people who had left him behind.

He still felt the phantom pain that he had endured when they had broken the bonds with him when he thought about them and it left a dull aching in his chest afterwards.

He sighed and rubbed his chest as the aching began, hoping that this time it would go quickly so he could focus on meeting the friend that had known his mother so well that she had trusted them enough to be executor of her estate.

He knew he was building it up in his mind, that he hoped to finally be able to talk to someone about his mother without them shutting him down as quickly as they could because of how painful it was to think of her, he just wanted to know more about the woman who apparently had a whole other part to her life that he knew nothing about.

When he reached to top of the stairs he walked along to the large wooden door down the hall and paused.

This is it.

He breathed deeply and knocked on the door.

The door opened to reveal a man who seemed ageless, with searching eyes and a cautious smile on his face.

“Mieczyslaw?” The man questioned, scanning his face.

Stiles supressed a sigh and spoke. “Please call me Stiles.”

A brief smile flitted across the man’s face before he pulled Stiles into his apartment by the arm.

Stunned by the action, Stiles didn’t resist and just blinked, taking the apartment as he was pulled through a hallway lined with red and black panels into a room with a sofa and two arm chairs, along with a detailed rug. He stared at the warm room in front of him and smiling slightly as it reminded him of some of the objects his mother had had at home. This is where she must have gotten them from, he realised.

The man cleared his throat, bringing Stiles back out of his mind, realising that he’d been staring for a while. When the man was certain that he had Stiles’ he motioned for him to sit down on the sofa.

He sat and when he was asked if he would like tea or coffee he replied tea. Coffee didn’t help with his ADHD.

“So, you must be finding this confusing.” The mand said with a soft smile once he had sat, reclining in the chair next to the sofa, with a coffee table in between them.

“It had been a bit weird.” Stiles admitted cautiously, not sure how far he could trust this man. He knew from Ragnok that his mother was friends with him but he also knew that he didn’t have a good relationship with his father, even going so far as to lock the estate down when he had tried to take control.

The man nodded as he look at Stiles, a grimaced a bit. “Yes, I am sorry for not getting in contact sooner, but after the first few times…” He trailed off.

Ah, Stiles realised, he was who dad yelled at on the phone when he was drunk.

He remembered those nights vividly. They were the only times since the funeral when his father mentioned his mother, but after listening in once he never tried again. He never wanted to hear him speak about her like that again.

He blinked, shaking himself out of it and realised that the man was watching him with a hard look in his eyes, as if he were remembering the same conversations.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.” Stiles said, trying to bring the conversation back into the present and avoid the topic of his father, sensing that it wouldn’t bode well.

The man blinked, then gave a short laugh. “Your right, I haven’t introduced myself. “He straightened and looked Stiles in the eyes fully. “My name is Magnus Bane.”

Stiles nodded, repeating the name in his head to try and make sure he remembered it, not wanting to offend one of the last links he had to his mom by forgetting his name.

Magnus watched the child of one of his oldest friends and realised that he had no idea what he was. At first he had been sceptical that a child of Claudia wouldn’t have at least some idea of his heritage, having presumed that John had at the very least known what she was, let alone had some idea of what she could do, but when Stiles had no reaction to his name he knew he had no idea of his place in their world.

This could get very complicated if he explained this badly.

He gazed at the boy assessing.

From what Ragnok had told him Mieczyslaw, and from what he had heard about the friends he used to have, his self-esteem would have been crushed.

It would be better to get to know him first before telling him about the down world and shadow hunters, but it would need to be done soon.

Walking around New York unaware could be dangerous. Maybe even deadly.

As their conversation went on Stiles found himself relaxing, and even laughing. He gave a start when that happened, not realising that how long it had been since he had laughed until then. It had been months.

As if sensing his melancholy Magnus had drawn him back into the conversation and had seemed delighted when he went off on one of his tangents every now and then, refusing to accept Stiels’ apologies for veering off topic.

It was strange, having someone who didn’t get annoyed when he couldn’t concentrate on one topic, or insult him for his inability to pay attention.

It was nice.

They talked about all the things that Stiles had wanted to ask his dad but had never had the courage to, even when he had stopped drinking, not wanting to restart him down the dark path he had clawed his way back from.

He asked about his grandparent, sad but accepting that they had been dead long before his mother died, though surprised to hear that he had an estranged uncle who his mom hadn’t spoken to most of the time that Magnus had known her. He learned about her favourite hobbies, verbally eviscerating someone while running circles around them, and her habit of going off on tangents like he did. It healed something inside of him to learn what she was like, the deep yearning he had felt while searching for any way to connect her decreasing as he learned more.

As they talked he didn’t notice the time passing, his nervous energy releasing the more he talked, letting him relax.

An alarm startled him, shaking them out of the conversation. Without him noticing the light had started to fade, and from the sound of his alarm, that he had made to alert him that the needed to eat, it was going to be fully dark soon and it was well past the time when he should have left.

Quickly silencing the alarm he started to apologise, hoping that Magnus would want to talk to him again and that he hadn’t annoyed him too much.

“I’m so sorry. Really. Sorry. I should have realised the time. Oh god, it’s really late and I’m sure you have lots to do. I’m so sorry. Really I’m”

As he spoke Magnus rose from his chair, his face carefully blank as he watched Mieczyslaw start to work himself up. People must have told him before that he overstayed his welcome.

Maybe he would have to visit them. Have a few words.

It’s not like he would ever know.

Magnus would be doing everything in his power to persuade Mieczyslaw to never go back to those people who obviously didn’t appreciate him.

Raising a hand to stop the blabbed apologies, he calmly asked Stiles if he had food at home, and seeing the slight scrunching of his face as he thought made him chuckle.

“I have enough food here if you’d like to stay.” He offered, though he knew it was in vein.

The child was obviously not used to other people looking out for him. He would change that as soon as he could, but he would have to be careful about it lest Mieczyslaw take offence and start to pull away.

After quickly taking Mieczyslaw’s phone he put his number inside and sent himself a text as well, just to make sure that they could get in contact in a way that wouldn’t freak the boy out if he had to find him.

Once Mieczyslaw had left Magnus quickly phoned up a pizza parlour to send the food to the boy’s place, happy that he could finally do even this small thing for his friend’s child, who he should have been supporting for the boy’s entire life.

Now he just had to contact the downworlders to let them know just who they would piss off with a vengeance if they chose to go after Mieczyslaw.

Well, he supposed, it was about time he reminded them why he was the high warlock of New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... it's become a three part.
> 
> Also sorry for the long wait but I've been in the last year of my degree and I haven't had time to do this really. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
